The Horn

By Willow Taylor



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What can you do when you hear the horn,
The horn of the winter hunter
Where can you go when you hear its note -
And there's no shelter to get under
The snow drifts down in hissing wind and beneath that all you hear
The haunting note; low and mourning
The horn of the winter hunter.
What runs through your mind as you gather your load,
And hear it sound again?
You want to run, you want to hide
For the note chills deep within
It sounds again, across the snow, and makes you quake with fear.
But in the storm, and winters cold,
can you be sure of what you hear?
Is it the wind blowing
Or is the horn, of the winter hunter


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The Horn © 2001 by Willow Taylor

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